


Not What I Had in Mind

by humanveil



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Minor Sirius Black/Remus Lupin, Post-War, Protectiveness, Reunions, everyone lives because the author is in denial, implied lucius/narcissa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-06
Updated: 2015-04-06
Packaged: 2018-03-16 21:00:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3502583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/humanveil/pseuds/humanveil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Months after the war, they came to get him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not What I Had in Mind

Months after the war, they came to get him.

Potter, it seemed, had vouched for the entire Malfoy family.

Narcissa's release had been immediate, locked up for barely a day before she was returned to the ruined Malfoy Manor. Azkaban was no place for a woman such as she, they'd said. Lucius' release, however, would not happen for many months. He deserved to rot, they'd said, for much longer than his wife or son.

Draco wasn't aware of any proceedings happening outside his cell in Azkaban. He hadn't thought Potter would help, wasn't sure he even could.

He had been in the wizarding prison for months before they came. Eight, going on nine. Not that Draco knew that, of course. The days had blended together, a mass blur of pain, fear, and anger. He had grown accustomed to the bleakness of his cell, the grime that covered the walls, the bitter cold that chilled his body, right down to his bones.

His body was completely numb, except for the fact that it wasn't. Not at all. Every bit of pain, every bit of despair, of sorrow, was like a thousand and one knives pushing into his flesh. An emptiness had spread through his veins, consuming every molecule, every atom, of his body until he was nothing but the shell of the boy – no, man – he once was.

He'd learnt to fear those who entered his cell, to turn his face away from the door, to shut his eyes against the sliver of light that filled his cell. If he couldn't see it, it didn't happen, right?

Not quite.

He could feel it, could feel every illicit touch, every stinging scratch. He could hear the harshness of the breath in his ear, the disturbing grunts uttered by the vile mouth of his abuser.

The day _they_ came was no different.

Draco heard the footsteps approaching, the now familiar feeling of fear coiled in his stomach, and he curled into himself. His body faced the other way, his eyes squeezed shut to the point of pain, his hands reached to cover his ears. He didn’t want to deal with it again.

He heard the lock click, the scrape of stone on stone as the door creaked open.

Draco's body rocked back and forth slightly, his breath coming out in irregular movement. The fear spread through his body like wild fire as the silence continued. He didn't want to see, he didn't want to hear, he didn't want to know...

“Mr Malfoy.”

Draco's movements stilled. The voice was familiar, he couldn't say who it was, exactly, but definitely familiar.

“Draco.”

Familiar, yes. Draco thought he'd heard her speak at his trial. His breathing evened out slightly, but still, he did not move.

“I'm not here to hurt you,” the voice said.

Draco choked out a hoarse, broken snort of laughter in reply. It sounded like a sob, even to his own ears. He heard the woman still, wary of his actions, and Draco would've smiled had he remembered how.

He relaxed his body, slowly moving into a half sitting position. He looked up, recognising the figure as his cousin, or something similar to that. He tried to speak, but it came out rough and harsh. He hadn't spoken in so long, only screamed. _Always_ screaming.

Clearing his throat, he tried again, “What do you want?”

She looked concerned, and Draco hated her for it. “I'm here to get you. The papers were finalised this morning.”

“Papers?”

“You don't know?”

Draco didn't say anything, just looked at her confused.

She sighed, “You're being released, Draco.”

“Oh,” he breathed, softly. He hadn't known.

“Yeah,” she said, awkwardly. “Anyway, I don't think you want to stay here much longer, so up you get.”

He nodded slowly, hand reaching out to grab at the wall in need of support. His body was incredibly weak, the direct result of no food and not enough sleep. He managed to get to his feet, still mostly bent over, but collapsed almost instantly.

“Draco?” The voice sounded worried now, and closer.

He tried to say something, but the words came out slurred. Tonks, if he remembered her name correctly, placed an arm around his waist and helped him up. He leant against her, and Draco noticed another figure near the doorway. He'd never seen him before.

“That's my partner,” Tonks explained, noticing Draco's hesitancy. “His name's Ealhstan. He won't hurt you.”

Draco was too tired to nod, he honestly didn't care anymore. He just wanted to get away from the hell hole. Ealhstan came around and supported the older side of Draco. They moved slowly, careful of further hurting the broken boy. Draco could hear them mumbling to each other, but the words sounded jumbled, and he was too tired to try and work them out.

Eventually, painfully, they got out of the building. Draco hoped he never went back.

\---

Draco had thought he would be taken to his mother, or at least somewhere to be healed. Appearing at Grimmauld Place had never crossed his mind. He thought it was odd, to be taken there of all places, but the thought of returning to Azkaban kept his lips sealed.

The first thing he noticed about the house was that the lady in the portrait was a complete _bitch_.

The second was that it was filled with people he _really_ didn't want to see, not when he was in this state.  Potter was there, in all his annoying glory, and with a frankly alarming amount of redheads around him.

The third, and his favourite, was that amongst the sea of red was a blonde. Elegant, as always, and impeccably dressed. Draco locked eyes with his mother and stepped forward, not caring about anything else.

Narcissa stood and walked towards him, grabbing his arm in support. She pulled her son to her, arms wrapping tightly around Draco's body. He went willingly, pressing his face against Narcissa's neck and inhaling deeply. Her scent was as comforting then as it had been when he was seven and fell off his broom.

“Darling,” Narcissa whispered, lips pressing gently against his hair.

“'M okay.”

Narcissa pulled back slowly, and Draco looked at her, ignoring everyone else. She moved her hands so she was cradling his head, one palm resting on each cheek. “No, you're not,” she said, her right thumb caressing his cheekbone.

“Had worse,” Draco mumbled, and Narcissa laughed, albeit pained.

“You think I'd be used to this, considering the amount of times your father has been in Azkaban,” she started. “But seeing you hurt is a thousand times worse.”

“Surely I don't complain as much as he does.”

“I suppose I'm about to find out,” his mother replied. Letting her hands drop, she turned towards Potter. “May I use a room to heal him?”

“We can get a healer,” was the unhelpful reply.

“That would be unnecessary,” she replied. “I am perfectly capable of doing it myself.”

“We need to talk about some things.”

“It can wait,” the words were harsh, and Draco remembered just how much he loved his mother.

“Fine,” Potter sighed, shrugging. “You know how to get around.”

Draco saw Narcissa restrain herself from rolling her eyes, and smirked slightly when she mumbled something in French under her breath and led him out of the room.

\---

“Was the screaming portrait your aunt?” Draco asked, sitting on the bed with no small amount of pain.

“Yes,” Narcissa replied, helping him remove the torn cloth Azkaban deemed a uniform.

“Seems charming.”

Narcissa looked at him through her eyelashes, a small smile on her face.  “Horrid bitch, she was,” she said. “Orion was worse, though.”

Draco opened his mouth to reply, but let out a gasp of pain instead when Narcissa pressed down on his ribs. “There's a lot wrong with you,” Narcissa said, worry creasing her face. “This will not be quick.”

“It's alright,” Draco repeated, settling in with a sigh.

\---

“I didn’t think I’d ever see Malfoy look like that,” Potter announced once Narcissa had helped Draco out of the main room.

“Did you see how skinny he was?” Hermione asked, voice traced with worry.

Tonks joined them at the table, taking a seat next to her mother. “He must have been hurt while he was there,” she said. “I’ve done that before, and no one’s ever been as bad as him.”

Sirius snorted, “Please, the reason he looks so bad is because Mummy and Daddy have handed him everything he’s ever wanted. He’s been pampered, and couldn’t handle anything less.”

“Sirius,” Remus sighed. “Don’t be so harsh on the boy.”

“It’s true!”

“You don’t know that.”

Sirius glared at his lover, “Stop being so nice, Moony. He doesn’t know how to handle something that isn’t luxury, that’s why he looks so bad.”

“I agree with Sirius,” Ron piped up. “The ferret deserved everything he got.”

“Ron,” Remus said calmly. “Don’t make any judgements before you know all the facts.”

“Oh, come on. Of course Malfoy wouldn’t be able to handle Azkaban,” Ron continued. “He probable couldn’t deal with living _here_.

“Enough!” Mrs Weasley scolded. “All of you, that’s enough. I don’t want to hear another speculation, understood?”

“But—”

“But _nothing_ , Ronald. The poor boy has been in Azkaban for months, let him be.”

Sirius mumbled something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like _twelve years_ , but a smack to the thigh by Remus kept him quiet. The topic of conservation changed, and Malfoy wasn’t mentioned until dinner time.

\---

Lulled by the comforting feeling of his Mother's magic, Draco had fallen asleep, accidentally, while being healed. He woke up, hours later, to Narcissa's quiet voice, and an agonising headache.

“How are you feeling?”

“Like shit,” he mumbled, fatigue evident in his voice.

“I suppose that is to be expected,” she smiled. “Hungry?”

Draco nodded, “A little.”

“Mrs Weasley has made dinner, and you’re expected to attend.” Draco opened his mouth to protest, but one warning look from Narcissa shut him up. “They’re going to talk to us about the conditions of your release.”

“I barely did anything,” Draco complained. “I shouldn’t have even been in Azkaban, how can there be _conditions?_ ”

He could tell by the look on Narcissa’s face that she wanted to laugh at him, “Yes, _we_ know that, but they don’t. They shouldn’t be too horrible.” Draco groaned, and Narcissa slapped his shoulder playfully. “Don’t be a prat, honey. Up you get.”

 The younger Malfoy groaned again, but obediently got up from the old bed he’d been sleeping on and followed Narcissa from the room.

\---

Once dinner was served, and Draco was sat next to Narcissa and across from Potter, there was no beating around the bush. Within minutes, Potter and his cronies had begun to list the _conditions_ of his release.

Contrary to what Narcissa had predicted, they _were_ horrible, _and_ numerous. Draco couldn’t fathom how he could possibly be seen as a serious threat to society – he had hardly done anything while under control of a madman, the threat of torture all too recent, he wasn’t going to do anything once he was free.

Some of them though, admittedly, were reasonable. While he wasn’t happy about it, he understood why they would request to check his wand once a month. What he couldn’t understand was why ‘random’ check-ups at any time of the day were allowed, or why he wasn’t allowed to leave the continent for another six months.

He had said as much, and the bitchy reply he’d received from his mother’s cousin had been; “You're lucky we even got you out.”

“Sirius,” Remus’ tired voice cut in.

“What?” Black looked at Remus confused. “You know it’s true, Remmy. If it weren't for Snape's nagging–”

Draco's spoon fell from his hand, and he heard his mother sigh from her spot next to him. His felt his breath quicken, could hear his heartbeat. Quietly, tentatively, he asked: “Snape?”

“You weren't supposed to mention _that_ ,” Narcissa muttered darkly. “Not yet.”

Draco's eyes flicked to his mother, a question forming on his lips, but Potter cut him off. “You don't know?”

“Know what?” Draco snapped, anticipation spreading through his body.

“About Snape?”

“ _What_ about him?”

“He's been _insisting_ on your release,” Potter answered. “I thought you knew.”

“I didn't even know he was _alive_!”

Harry looked to those sitting around him before turning back to Draco, confusion evident on his face. “Okay,” he said, slowly. “Seriously?”

“ _Potter_ ,” Draco growled.

“What?” Harry proclaimed. “We didn't know, sorry.”

A million emotions were running through Draco's head, he felt the beginnings of panic inching through his body, and his throat began to close as he asked, “Where is he?”

“Um–”

“Draco,” Narcissa said gently, cutting Potter's reply off. “I'll explain everything later.”

“But—”

“Later,” she repeated, hand grabbing hold of his under the table. “I promise, darling.”

\---

“I wanted to wait until you got settled in,” Narcissa said later that night, once they had been allowed to return to the Manor.

“Where is he?”

“The outskirts of England,” Narcissa replied, sighing. “He lives in a secluded cottage.”

Draco fiddled with the delicate teacup his mother pushed into his hands, “Have you seen him?”

“Yes,” Narcissa said with a smile. “I go there and force him to have tea with me at least once a fortnight.”

Draco's eyes met Narcissa’s, “Can you take me?”

“I don't think that's the best idea,” she stated, voice hesitant. “You need to readjust.”

“Mother,” Draco whined, an edge of desperation in his voice. “Please.”

“I will,” she reassured him. “But not yet.”

“Why—”

“I know what's best for you, sweetie. Believe me, you need some time before you go and see him.”

Despite every nerve in his body pleading with him to argue, Draco knew not to – not in that moment, anyway.

\---

The days following Draco’s return to Malfoy Manor were primarily filled with pleading. He’d done little else but bug his mother to take him to see his (possibly ex) lover.

Eventually, on the ninth day, Narcissa had cracked. After much scurrying around on Draco’s part, the blonde took hold of her son’s hand and they left the Manor with a distinct _pop_.

Draco’s felt his feet land on firm ground, and he couldn't have be happier. His stomach wasn't ready for apparation yet.

Narcissa's hand was still linked in his, and he turned towards her. Quietly, he asked, “Are there wards I need to get through?”

His mother shook her head, “I've already got you through them. All you need to do is knock on the door.”

“Right.”

“Are you okay, darling?”

Draco smiled at her faintly, “I'll be fine.”

She pulled Draco into a hug, placing a gentle kiss on his temple, she whispered, “Good luck. I presume I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Right,” he repeated, stepping away from her. “Thank you, for letting me do this.”

“Whatever makes you happy, honey,” she said, before disappearing with a _pop_.

\---

The cottage was not what Draco had expected.

Granted, the man was supposed to be dead. He hadn't expected anything. But to appear in front of a secluded, picturesque little house had never crossed his mind.

It was nice, though. The roof was lined with dark brick, the walls a pristine white with dark panels. The surroundings of the house were green, sprouts of colour from plants and weeds popping up now and then. His hair blew in the slight breeze, and the sun shone down gently.

Draco could see why Severus had chosen to stay – or hide – here.

There was a gravel road leading to the house, and Draco started the walk. His heart was in his throat, the beats a heavy _thump thump_ in his own ears. A slight tremor found its way to his hands, increasing with every step he took.

After what seemed like a lifetime, Draco's knuckles made contact with the door. He held his breath, his anxiety growing with each second. Eventually, though, he heard the soft sound of familiar footsteps, saw the door handle turn.

A look of shock flashed over Severus' face before returning to indifference. Draco would have been offended, had he noticed. He was too preoccupied staring at the man before him, taking in every new detail that had emerged since the last time they were face to face.

It had been during the final battle. Severus had found him right before Voldemort had called, and Draco had stood, quietly. A million emotions had flashed through his mind while his hands clung to Severus for what could have been the last time.

Severus was the first to speak, “Mr Malfoy.”

Those two words, said so quietly Draco could hardly hear them, shattered the illusion.

“Don't,” he said, an edge of desperation colouring his voice. “Draco, _not_ Mr Malfoy. You can't--” he cut himself off, shutting his mouth abruptly, his lips pursing.

“Draco, then,” Severus murmured, opening the door wider. “Did Narcissa bring you here?”

“Yes.”

Severus nodded, and then sighed. “I suppose we need to talk.”

Draco didn’t speak, but he followed the older man into the cottage.

\---

Once they were situated around Severus' dining table, Draco let himself relax a little. “You're alive,” he said, thinking he’d start with the obvious.

“Well spotted.”

Draco rolled his eyes, “ _How_?”

Severus leant back in his chair, “I knew, years before the battle, that a situation would arise were He would kill me.”

“So you what?” Draco asked. “Spent years preparing a plan to ensure your survival?”

“No.”

Draco scowled, “A little more information would be nice.”

The ex-professor sighed, “I only started to prepare for it after you and I made our agreement.”

The _agreement_ was referring to what used to be their relationship. It had started with Draco pretending to have sex with Severus in return for protection. The aim was to give the impression of excessive possessiveness on Snape’s part, so that the other death eaters would stop _perusing_ Draco. It had eventually led to actual sex, which ultimately led to sex _and_ feelings, and all the shit that came along with that.

Ignoring the urge to punch the man for his literary choices, Draco simply asked, “Why?”

“Because of you.”

“Me?”

“Yes.”

“Right, so if I'm so important in this, _why_ did you keep everything from me? _Why_ did you _constantly and continuously_ lie to me?” Draco knew he probably sounded pathetic, but he had thought of little else while locked up in Azkaban. “I wouldn't have told, Severus. No one would've known.”

“It was not just you. No one could know,” Severus replied, voice quiet.

Draco opened his mouth to reply, but Severus beat him to it.

“Before everything,” he paused, “Before _you_ , there was no real reason for me to survive,” he said, and Draco inhaled sharply. “I could not put your life in danger like that. He would have killed you, too.”

“Why—You can’t—You can’t just—” Draco cut himself off, hands fumbling with each other where they rested under the table. “Don’t say things like that.”

“Why?”

“Because,” Draco responded. “It makes me want to forgive you, and I don’t want to yet.”

“My intention is not to guilt trip you into forgiving me, Draco,” Severus muttered. “I am simply trying to be honest with you. I don’t expect to be forgiven for some time.”

“Good, because you’re a bloody cretin.”

“Only when it comes to you,” the dark hair man replied, a hint of amusement in his tone. 

Draco smiled at him, and the urge to get up and fall into the older man’s lap was almost overwhelming. So much time spent apart, all Draco wanted was to be back in his arms. Yet, he held himself back. He wasn’t certain that was allowed, anymore.

“Azkaban hasn’t been kind to you,” Snape said, after a moment’s silence.

Sarcastically, the boy replied; “That’s exactly what I came here to hear, thank you.”

“It’s a topic of conversation.”

“You’re already on thin ice, Sev. I wouldn’t push it.” Draco noticed a slight upturn of the other man’s lips, and his own smile widened. “What have you been up to?”

“It took a few months to heal, of course,” Severus answered, and Draco’s eyes flashed towards his neck. The high collared robe undoubtedly covered up a scar, and Draco desperately wanted to see. “But these days I mostly fill my time with research,” he paused, “And your mother’s visits.”

“I’m sure she’s kept you up to date on everything.”

“Naturally,” Severus deadpanned.

“Don’t pretend like you don’t love her,” Draco leaned forward in his chair, arms crossed over and resting atop the hard wood.

“Never,” was the sarcastic reply. Draco laughed, only slightly, and rested his cheek against his forearm, looking up towards Severus. “I expected you to look worse.”

“I’ve been out nine days,” Draco mumbled. “Mother’s a good healer.”

Snape’s jaw tightened, “How badly were you hurt?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Draco,” Severus warned. “Tell me.”

“No, you’ll only want to go and kill everyone, and I’d much rather you stay here,” the boy replied. “With me.”

“So badly, then.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“I wouldn’t be homicidal over a scratch, Draco.”

The blond laughed, “That’s not the Severus I remember.”

“Oh?”

“I remember threats of castration over _looks_.”

“Within reason,” the older man replied. “Carrow deserved it.”

“That he did,” Draco agreed.

“As did the rest of them.”

“Too bad you wouldn’t have gotten away with it.”

Severus smirked, “We could’ve tried.”

“Could have, yes.”

“It’s a pity we didn’t.”

Draco beamed, and it was an odd feeling. So long spent with nothing but fear and angst had left every feeling he was experiencing whilst in front of Snape foreign. Still, things needed to be talked about.

Sighing, Draco said, “I thought you were dead.”

“I know,” Severus responded. “I'm sorry.”

“Are you?”

“Yes,” there was no room for argument in the older man's tone, and Draco quieted. “I tried to help quicken your release.”

“So I heard. How did that go?”

Severus' mouth twitched, “There were many _idiotic_ encounters with _idiotic_ Gryffindors, I assure you.”

“Good,” the blond said. “It pleases me to know you were in some sort of pain while I was gone.”

There was so much to say, so much to discuss, to catch up on. Draco didn't know where to start, so he didn't. Instead, he sat across from his lover – his ex lover? – and observed. The man hadn't changed much since Draco had last seen him. He looked a little less stressed, and perhaps a little younger as a consequence. His outfit was similar to that of his Hogwarts days, despite the decrease in dramatics. Draco could see the beginnings of scars around his neck, and the urge to reach out and touch intensified. Pale blue eyes found black, and the young Malfoy was engulfed by the look held there. Severus' features were softened, as they always were for Draco – only ever Draco – and every feeling he had for the man spread through his body in a rush.

“I've missed you,” the boy said, and looked away. His voice was barely above a whisper, as if admitting it would break something between them.

“And I you,” Severus stated, voice just as quiet.

“You're all I thought about,” Draco mumbled, “in Azkaban.”

“Draco–” Severus stopped, sighing. He reached his hand across the table, cool, slim fingers grabbing hold of Draco's trembling ones. Their eyes met again, and within seconds Draco moved from the hard, wooden surface of his chair to Severus' lap.

“Is this allowed?” he questioned, voice shaking slightly.

“For you, always,” Snape answered, arms wrapping tightly around the boy's petite frame.

The feeling of Severus' arms around him, of their bodies pressed against one another, of the soft puffs of air escaping from Severus' mouth offered a sense of security Draco hadn't felt in a long time. He couldn't help the shiver that went through his body, the content sigh that left his mouth.

Completely enamoured with Severus, Draco wouldn't have been able to stop himself from leaning down and kissing the man, even if he had wanted to. It was soft, almost hesitant, and certainly different from what they were usually like. As always, Severus took control, but Draco wouldn’t have had it any other way. It felt right to be there, wrapped around the other man’s body, he felt _safe,_ and it made him never want to leave.

“I’ve missed this too,” Draco murmured against Severus’ lips, and the older man hummed in agreement, a smile forming on his lips. “I suppose I couldn’t convince you to shag me, could I?”

“No,” Severus said, leaning back so he could look at the boy’s face. “Not in the state you’re in.”

Draco pouted, “Please?”

“No,” Snape repeated. “And don’t pout, you are not a child.”

Draco continued to pout, “Is it a possibility for the future?”

“Of course,” the dark haired man smirked. “So long as you’re uninjured,” he paused, and then added, almost as if an afterthought, “And willing.”

Squirming in Snape’s lap, Draco nodded before leaning in to kiss the older man. If he couldn’t have sex with him, he’d at least get a good make out session. After what he’d been through, he thought it was the least he deserved.

\---

Draco woke with a smile on his face, and Severus pressed up against his back. He’d slept without any nightmares for the first time in a long, long time, and it felt amazing. Soft, warm sunbeams came through the large window across the bed, and Draco snuggled further into the warmth the room offered. It felt amazing, a direct contrast to everything he had felt whilst in Azkaban.

He never wanted to leave.

Severus shifted behind him, cool lips coming to rest against his bare shoulder. “Good morning,” he mumbled.

Draco turned around so he was face to face with the other man, “Morning.”

“Sleep well?”

“Mmmhm,” he hummed, mouth reaching to press against the other man’s.

Severus pulled him closer, mouth working against the boy’s as calloused hands stroked the small of his back. He pulled back, before they got carried away, and muttered; “There’s still a lot to discuss.”

“I know,” Draco said, sighing. He didn’t want to stop.

“You’re going to tell me everything that happened in Azkaban at some point.”

“Mmmhm, and you’re going to tell me all the details of your _plan_ ,” he mumbled, mouth moving along Snape’s scarred neck. “But later.”

“And if I decide to go and kill a few people, that is my decision.”

“Severus?”

“What?”

“Shut up and enjoy the moment.”

The older man sighed in annoyance, but his lips pressed gently against Draco’s forehead. “Your wish is my command.”

**Author's Note:**

> I understand that the beginning of this is unlikely to happen, even in fanfiction, but it was bugging me so here it is.


End file.
